


Hook, Line, and Sinker

by rowdyhooligan



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Come Marking, Explicit Language, F/M, Inappropriate Use of an Angel Blade, Light Bondage, Minor Character Death, slight Fear Kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-06
Updated: 2018-12-06
Packaged: 2019-09-12 17:34:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,206
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16877238
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rowdyhooligan/pseuds/rowdyhooligan
Summary: While chasing down a thief, the reader stumbles on the reclusive Prince of Hell and gets more than she bargained for.





	Hook, Line, and Sinker

**Author's Note:**

> cross-posted from tumblr: Requested by @vintagevalentinexx: I was thinking of something like Ramiel/Hunter!Reader. He stumbles upon her in the forest while he’s fishing. She was hunting down a wendigo or something. She’s curious about him, yet extremely wary, and he tries to change her mind, if you catch my drift. AKA Ramiel seduces the crap out of the reader.

When you finally got your hands on this son of a bitch, you were gonna exorcise his ass so fast his head would spin. No one stole from you, especially not some two bit flunkie fresh out of Hell. How he’d managed to find your stash of rare artifacts in the first place you didn’t know, but you sure as hell weren’t letting him get away with taking something from it. Especially not an incredibly rare talisman capable of banishing angels without the need for a blood sigil.

He was a clever bastard, you had to give him that. Each time you’d come close to tracking him down and taking back what was rightfully yours, he managed to give you the slip. But you were nothing if not tenacious, and this whole cat-and-mouse game had gone on long enough. When you managed to follow his trail to some small, out of the way town, you immediately gave chase, determined that he wasn’t going to get away this time.

Which is how you found yourself crashing through the woods, hot on his heels. The devil’s trap engraved bullet you managed to put in his shoulder kept him from smoking out, and he hightailed before you could finish the job. Dodging tree branches and upraised roots, you saw a lake up ahead, a little house not far from the shore. The demon spotted the house at the same time, and veered off for it. What he hoped to accomplish there, you didn’t care to find out.

Pushing yourself to go faster, you were gaining on him when the front door opened, surprising you both. The demon froze in place, and you had to skid to a halt to prevent slamming into him. It wasn’t hard to figure out why he’d stopped so suddenly. Though he looked unassuming enough, you could tell something was…off…about the newcomer. There was an air about him, an aura of something dangerous. Bizarre and slightly menacing though it was, what really threw you off was the fishing rod and tackle box he carried.

It was difficult to make out his features, in the gloom of nightfall and the light from the entryway at his back. He was about average height, and lanky, but you could tell there was muscle hidden beneath his bulky vest. His hair was neatly combed, and he had a beard, but that was about all you could make out. Though you couldn’t really see his face, you felt the weight of his eyes on you for a moment before he turned his attention to the demon you’d been chasing.

The stranger let out an annoyed tut, setting his fishing gear aside. Both you and the demon could only watch, too intimidated to move. What you were so wary of, you couldn’t say- it just seemed like a good idea to not draw attention to yourself. That resolve lasted until the stranger started down the steps. You took an instinctive step back, coming to a halt when his eyes flicked your way.

Seeming satisfied you weren’t going anywhere, he addressed your thief. “I thought I made my wishes very clear- I don’t want to be disturbed. By anyone.”

“Sir, please- I didn’t know this was your home-“

“I don’t care.” With an air of utter indifference, he flicked his wrist and snapped the demon’s neck. Stunned, you began to panic when he turned your way. Frozen under his stare, you scrambled for the words that would let you leave here alive. But he didn’t seem inclined to kill you just yet. Cocking his head to the side, he said, “You’re not a demon.”

“No, I’m not.”

“So what’s a little human like you chasing down my brethren? Are you a hunter?”

You were beyond screwed. This guy was way above your pay grade, judging from how easily he’d just killed the other demon. Internal alarms blaring, you opted for the truth- something told you he’d know if you were lying. “Kind of. I’m mostly just support; anytime someone needs some research done on obscure or rare artifacts, they call me.”

“Yet you were chasing after this one,” he pointed out, nudging the body with his foot.

You tried not to flinch when his boot knocked against something with a loud thunk. Curious, he looked away from you long enough to bend down and rifle through the thief’s pockets. Every swear word you knew went through your head when he straightened up, dangling the talisman between his fingers. His eyebrows shot up on surprise as he twisted it this way and that. Clearly he knew, or at least had an idea, of what it was.

“This is ancient power,” he remarked, sounding vaguely impressed, “how’d you manage to stumble on it?”

You bristled slightly at the implication you’d found it by accident, instead of working your ass off to track it down. But as you weren’t ready to die just yet, you kept your tone carefully neutral. “I, uh, I collect them, for my research. Rare artifacts, I mean. He stole it, and I wanted it back…”

An awkward silence fell as he studied you, eyes alight with renewed interest. It was like being under a microscope; you weren’t entirely sure how you felt about the calculating look on his face.

“I’m something of a collector myself,” he said suddenly, “and even I don’t have anything quite like this.”

You weren’t sure how to respond to that, replying with a guarded “Oh?”

The slight smirk on his face didn’t bode well for you. If he intended to kill you and keep the talisman for himself, there was nothing you could do to stop him. This demon- whoever he was- was nothing like the one who stole it from you in the first place. Even if you hadn’t just witnessed him effortlessly kill the thief, he radiated power and not a little menace. It was a wonder you were still breathing.

“You know, it isn’t often I find someone else who collects such interesting toys,” he remarked casually, his attention torn between you and the talisman. “How’d you like a cup of coffee, and you can tell me more about your collection, hmm?”

You knew it wasn’t a request. Struggling to keep your voice steady, you nodded. “Sounds…lovely.”

Trailing after him, your heart pounded away in your throat, nerves on edge. He shut the door behind you with an audible click, making it clear you weren’t going anywhere without his say so. Cursing every decision that led to this, you shied away when he went past, the grin on his face widening at the nervous gesture.

He tromped down the hall without waiting to see if you followed, directing you to have a seat in the living room while he got the coffee started. Seeing no other option, you did as instructed, perching on the edge of a worn sofa. The words of the exorcism ran through your head, but you debated the risk of using it. If he was bound to that vessel the chant would do no good, leaving you with a pissed off, extremely powerful demon.

He reappeared a few minutes later, carrying two steaming mugs of coffee. You accepted yours gingerly, unsure of how safe it was to drink. It was never a good idea to take open drinks from strangers, but he didn’t strike you as the type to slip you a roofie, and if he wanted you dead, he didn’t have to bother with poison. Besides, it wasn’t like you had much of a choice, as his pointed stare reminded you.

To your surprise, the coffee was pretty decent, the first sip rolling smooth across your tongue. You took another swallow, all too aware of the demon’s eyes watching your every move. Under the warm glow of the lamps, you could see him clearly for the first time. He was handsome, in an unassuming kind of way, with piercing eyes and a salt and pepper beard. His face was lined with age, but that only served to lend him a dignified air. If you didn’t know better, he’d be exactly your type.

“So,” he drawled when the silence dragged on for several minutes, “tell me about this collection of yours. But first, how about a name?”

Clearing your throat nervously, you introduced yourself. When he did likewise, introducing himself as Ramiel, your heart rate spiked. Of course it was just your luck to stumble on one of the legendary Princes of Hell. You’d come across his name several times during your years of research, never associated with anything good…and now you were completely at his mercy.

“I can hear your heart, you know,” he remarked suddenly, “hammering away like a little jackrabbit. You can relax- if I wanted to kill you, you’d be dead by now.”

“Sorry, I just- I’ve read about you before.” And why the hell were you apologizing to him?

“Is that so? Let me guess…you read all about how death, destruction, and ruin followed in my wake, is that right?”

“More or less.”

“I see. Well let me tell you, there’s a lot of work that goes into wreaking havoc, and I’m retired.”

You were thrown for a loop by his admission. “Retired? I didn’t know demons could retire.”

“When you’re as strong and scary as I am, you can do whatever you want,” he replied mockingly.

“That’s fair, I guess. Can I ask…why?” you questioned hesitantly. Foolish though it was, you found yourself curious about the demon. How many people could claim to have a conversation with an ancient force of chaos?

Ramiel seemed surprised, yet pleased, with the question. Leaning back, he took a sip of coffee before replying. “I was bored. Once Lucifer was thrown into the Cage- I assume you know what that is?” You nodded. “Once he was in the Cage, we carried on for a few centuries, corrupting and destroying humanity in his name. But after a while, there didn’t seem to be any point to it all. Destruction for destruction’s sake is tiresome, and three of us decided we had enough. So Dagon went her way, Asmodeus went his, and I settled here.”

“Leaving Azazel to jump start the Apocalypse,” you added quietly. Those years were some of your worst, every dawn seeming to bring with it terrible news.

“He always was a fanatic,” Ramiel said dismissively.

“Why artifacts, if you don’t mind me asking. I mean, antiquing seems like kind of a weird hobby for a Prince of Hell.”

He let out a bark of laughter, clearly caught off guard by your words. “It’s just a name- doesn’t mean anything. And I’m allowed to have hobbies outside of murder and mayhem.”

The longer you sat there, the more relaxed your guard. You didn’t allow yourself to forget just who and what you were dealing with, but Ramiel was unlike anyone you’d ever met. He was fascinated by what you told him of your collection; as strange and disquieting as the thought was, you found a kindred spirit in the demon Prince.

Furthermore, he was able to tell you a little about the history of the artifacts in his possession from first hand accounts, his words bringing to life the power and the people who created the various relics. It was so much better than reading dull journals and diaries, even if he did seem to relish the stories where blood magic was involved just a little too much. The hour grew late and your coffee went cold as you talked. It was easy to overlook he was essentially holding you hostage, your talisman laid out in front of him on the coffee table. 

Ramiel seemed just as intrigued with you. He demanded to know more about your life and your work, both as a pseudo-hunter and as a regular civilian. His eyes rarely left your face, and you found yourself growing more comfortable with the intense scrutiny. It was like he was trying to see into the very heart of you, a thought that sent shivers down your spine. Whether they were from dread or attraction, you didn’t want to analyze.

When he suggested going down to his basement to take a look at some of his collection, you only hesitated a moment before taking the offered hand, heart fluttering with nerves. Aware that he could hear the increased tempo, you tried your best to keep it steady as he led you down the dimly lit staircase- an all but impossible task when he didn’t release his grip on you. The touch of those calloused palms against your smooth skin only served to stoke the growing heat in your belly.

In search of a distraction, you glanced about the basement, curiosity getting the better of you. Ramiel finally let go of you, allowing you to explore to your heart’s content. All too aware of his eyes tracking your every move, you poked about freely, avoiding some of the more malevolent pieces in favor of gingerly flipping through texts so old the ink had all but faded away. Every new discovery was more incredible than the last; this was the culmination of countless centuries of collecting, and it showed.

“This is…amazing,” you said finally, turning to face the demon.

“I know,” he replied matter-of-factly. “You’re standing in one of the biggest stockpiles of rare and powerful items ever amassed, one that’s taken me thousands of years to gather. Now, normally I’d slaughter anyone poking around down here.”

“And yet you chose to show me,” you pointed out.

“That’s right, I did,” he agreed amiably. “In all the time I’ve been wandering across this rock, I’ve never found anyone who shares the same…passion…for collecting as I do. You’ve caught my interest- pretty rare, especially for a human. And I do love rare things.”

Unsure of how to interpret his words, you tried to keep your voice level. “Meaning what? Are you…do you plan on keeping me here?”

“Not in so many words.”

He ambled over to you, his steps sure and confident, the look in his eyes full of blatant interest. You found yourself responding to that look, breath coming shorter, pulse fluttering despite your efforts to remain calm. There was nowhere for you to escape as he came closer; even if there were, you didn’t know if you wanted to. He came to a stop in front of you, so close you could feel the heat radiating off of him.

Ramiel smelled like the outdoors, like pine trees and fresh water and clean air, undercut by the faint reek of sulphur. The reminder of his true nature did nothing to stop your growing arousal, your center getting hotter and slicker by the second. Judging from the faint smirk twisting his lips, and the knowing look he gave you, he knew exactly what effect he was having, and it delighted him.

“I have a proposition for you,” he said, eyes raking over you with hunger, “all I want is one night. One night to have the human who’s managed to capture my attention. One night to show you pleasures no other human could ever hope to. I know it appeals to you at least a little; I can smell it on you, all that sweet slick between your legs. So whaddya say?”

“Holy shit,” you whispered, too far gone to notice you’d spoken out loud until he laughed.

“Not even remotely,” he replied, voice pitching lower and eyes flashing yellow, a clear sign that he wasn’t going to let you forget or ignore his true nature. As if you could.

Letting a demon take you to bed- a Prince of Hell, no less- was not how you pictured this night ending. But standing in front of him, face flushed and legs trembling from the dark promise in his words, your choice was surprisingly easy. “Yes.”

His answering grin was one of pure victory. Those yellow eyes bore into your own, holding you captive as he brought a hand up to cradle the back of your neck, pulling you forward. You went willingly, offering no resistance as he tugged you flush against his body, the hard press of his arousal digging into your belly. His kiss was just as intense as the demon himself, fierce and possessive, the heat of it searing you to the bone and leaving ash in its wake.

Opening up under the insistent prodding of his tongue, you moaned as the taste of him flooded your mouth. Ramiel’s grip tightened as he explored you, holding you still against him. A hand landed heavily on the small of your back, his lower half grinding into you. You clutched at his shirt, giving yourself over to the kiss entirely. If this was a sample of what was to come, he hadn’t been kidding about showing you pleasure a human couldn’t.

The world tilted on its axis, and when he finally allowed you to pull away to catch your breath, you were no longer in the basement. Standing in what could only be his bedroom, you barely had a moment to collect yourself before he was tossing you onto the mattress, impatient to get started. Landing with a soft bounce, you scrambled to the top of the bed, toeing off your boots and socks along the way.

Ramiel paused a moment, yellow eyes burning as he watched you struggle with the zipper on your jeans, fingers clumsy in your haste. At last, you managed to get the fly undone, shoving the constricting denim down your legs. Your shirt followed, leaving you in just your bra and panties. Settling back amongst the pillows, you met his gaze squarely and opened your legs in invitation.

He looked ready to devour you, the sight of your nearly naked body on display stirring him to action. But as hasty as he had been before, he certainly took his time undressing, slowly working free the buttons of his shirt, carelessly tossing it aside. Ramiel didn’t break eye contact as he pulled his belt free of the loops, the whisper soft glide of leather deafening in the quiet room.

Holding his belt in hand, he was struck with inspiration. “Hold out your hands.”

Heart racing, you did as instructed, obediently holding out your wrists. He wound the supple leather around and around, guiding you to lay back and bring your joined hands up to the headboard. You were damn near squirming with anticipation while he tied your wrists to the wooden frame, giving a sharp tug to make sure it was secure. Positive you weren’t going anywhere anytime soon, he set about shedding the rest of his clothes.

Looming over you, naked save for a dark smile, Ramiel looked every inch the demon of legend. His erect cock stood at attention, curving up towards his belly. Though not the biggest you’d ever had, he was thick, so thick around you felt a twinge of worry cut through your aching need. Rubbing your thighs together, desperate for friction, you watched him with bated breath.

Ramiel surprised you, bypassing your bound form and reaching into the drawer of his nightstand. Fear pulsed through you when he revealed an angel blade, the lamplight glinting off the sharp point. Shifting uneasily, all too aware of your vulnerable state, you eyed him warily when he brought it closer.

“Took this off an angel a few centuries back,” he remarked casually, grazing the tip of the blade down your body. You shivered at the cool touch of metal inching its way across your skin. Ramiel smirked, clearly pleased with the reaction. “What’s the matter, sweetheart- don’t trust me?”

“Would you?”

“Not on your life.” Ignoring your alarmed gasp, he cut through the fabric of your panties, impatiently tugging the ruined scraps away. “But you’re the one who agreed to this, so why don’t you spread those pretty legs wider and I’ll get you ready for me.”

He didn’t wait for a response, crawling to kneel between your thighs without another word. Fear abating, there was no holding in a whimper when he flipped the blade over, handle pointing toward your slippery cunt. The demon really had no shame, ready to defile a divine object with your juices, an idea that should not be as arousing as it was.

Eyes sliding shut, you relaxed into the pillows, tilting your hips in offering. The first brush of metal against your slick folds pulled a low moan from your lips. Encouraged by the sound and in the mood to toy with his supper before he ate it, Ramiel traced the handle up and down your entrance, teasing the seam of your pussy. Anytime you tried arching into the touch, he would pull away, keeping the pressure light enough to feel but offering no satisfaction.

He tormented you for several minutes, slicking up the handle until it glistened. You tried not to thrash about, but the way he was teasing you left you desperate for relief. The stiff peaks of your nipples poked through your bra, too much temptation for Ramiel to pass up. He ripped the offending garment off, completely disregarding your cry of protest. You didn’t have it in you to care about your ruined underwear with the feeling of those calloused fingers pinching and rolling your nipples experimentally, testing to see how much you could take.

“Ramiel,” you whined, “Ramiel, please.”

Looking down at you in amusement, he remarked, “That didn’t take long; are you sure you can last the night?”

Forcing your eyes open, you glared up at him, the burning ache in your belly making you snap at him. “We’re never gonna find out at this rate.”

He laughed, not the least bit offended or angry. “We’re going to have to work on your begging…but not right now.”

With that, he thrust the handle into your sopping wet channel, the sudden intrusion knocking the wind from your lungs. Keening helplessly, you could only lay there and take it when he began to fuck you with the angel blade hard and fast. The blade slid through your walls with ease, well aided by your slick arousal. Fingers clenching and unclenching in time to his thrusts, you tugged mindlessly at your restraints, to no avail: the leather belt held fast.

Your walls grew accustomed to the invasion, the sting of it fading as you were stretched wide to accommodate it. Head tossing to and fro, eyes squeezed shut, you didn’t notice the way Ramiel stared at you, yellow eyes absorbing every expression. Chest heaving, arms tied above your head, skin glistening with sweat and pussy lips wrapped around the angelic weapon, he was certain he’d never seen a more decadent sight. No talisman, no relic, could compare to this. Ramiel was also certain one night wouldn’t be enough.

Unaware of the sudden turn his thoughts had taken, you writhed on the bed, rocking your hips to get the handle even deeper. The fires in your belly grew hotter, release so close you could taste it. The first brush of Ramiel’s fingers on your clit had you jolting in place, eyes flying open with a gasp. He rubbed circles around the swollen bundle of nerves, determined to see you climax on the blade. Before long, the pressure built to a breaking point, and one firm stroke of his thumb was all it took to send you crashing headlong into ecstasy.

You came with a cry, legs shaking as wave after wave of liquid fire rolled through your veins. Your inner walls clamped down on the handle, forcing Ramiel to slow the speed of his thrusts. Watching you come, so open and wanton in seeking your pleasure, was too much for him to bear. Fingers coated in your slick, he took his aching cock in hand, pumping himself as he watched you ride out your release. In teasing you, he’d teased himself, too close to the edge to resist jumping over.

He let out a loud groan, coming hard all over your stomach and pussy. Pearly strands of come striped your skin, marking you as his. You didn’t care about the mess, so lost to the hedonistic pleasure he forced from you that the sticky ropes of come barely registered. He stroked himself to completion, determined to eke out every last ounce of bliss. Even then, the sight of his come covering your quivering belly and the coarse curls between your legs kept him hard and ready for the next round.

Shuddering as he slipped the slippery handle from your channel, you weren’t left empty for long. Ramiel stretched out atop you, hitching your legs around his waist and sliding home. Whimpering his name, you wiggled and writhed beneath him, desperate to take him deeper still. If you only had tonight, you were damn well going to make it count, determined to feel him with every step tomorrow.

Your last coherent thought before Ramiel began fucking into you slow and deep was the certainty that one night would never be enough. He’d managed to reel you in, hook, line, and sinker.


End file.
